Kisses & Cream
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: Roderich hates it when he does that. Almost as much as the fanfolk... a short, quick fic I typed in spanish class. Because fanfiction is way more interseting than spanish verbs. trufax. RoderichxGilbert, Yaoi. M2BSAFE, DL;DR.


**KISSES AND CREAM~**  
>A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction*Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2011<br>_AustriaxPrussia _***R15*  
>~FOOD PLAY~PETTING~UKE!PRUSSIA~<br>**_**…**_

_Im just going to take this moment to do some blatant self-promoting.  
>for those of you who don't know, I have actually got a tumblr, (laughinginindanish. tumblr. Com but remove spaces…) and well, um… I like followers and friends, ja? There isn't much there right now, its mostly about me, being not in my home country, posting things I find amusing, and rambling. But I think if I got enough followers who are fans of my writing I would be happy to start taking drabble requests and posting fic extracts, as well as hetalia pixiv dumps if you guys have any requests. Mm. I also do fan art, but the likelihood of that going up is low because um, I suck. Really.<br>better not forget… I actually don't own hetalia or the characters. Which is a downer._

…

It rains.

When the summer is turning, and autumn bows to winters hand, the rain falls greyly over the countryside and in the cobbled city streets. Frost begins to glitter on naked branches, the airy light is lacy and shivers with anticipation, and a subtle wind swishes the rainfall. It taps on my window.

I stop playing the piano and sigh, glancing outside to the blurred lights of passing cars splashing by. Their headlights glow orange and glitter in the beads of wet on the glass, and it feels rather cold here in my parlour. I decide to put the kettle on, fix myself a cup of coffee, and light a fire. Maybe I would read a book or two, unwind and relax. It wasn't often I got peace and quiet like this. Actually, I never got peace and quiet like this. It was cosy; it was luxurious in a small, sweet sort of a way. I allowed myself a slight smile as I stood, and closed the piano lid as I went.

The kitchen was warm; I set up a mug on the countertop and set some more grind into the coffeemaker to percolate. It smelt warmly of cafes and class. I liked that. It was… nice.

When I returned to the parlour, cup of black coffee complete with vanilla in hand, I set the CD player on. Some violin. The fire lit easily, I had packed the grate with tinder and newspaper last night. When I settled down into the squishy red sofa and set my cup of coffee on the table, it was with a sigh befitting a man who had just had the most pleasant of orgasms, and had a whole evening in which to enjoy a single, drawn out one more.

There was even a book on my coffee table waiting for me to read it. I slipped off my shoes, tucked my feet under me and pulled my hands into the long sleeves of my fluffy pale lilac sweater.

I started to read.

…

The world within my book was enchanting, I found myself lost as soon as I picked it up. Without even realising I had finished three chapters, and the soft gold light of the fire in the grate no longer gave enough light to read by. Instead of struggle on I removed my glasses and set them on the table beside my empty cup. My book fell to the sofa beside me, and contented I closed my eyes to listen to the pattering rain.

I jumped almost right off the sofa when a huge, shuddering thud broke the serendipity of it all, the sound of a fierce fist on a wooden door.

"Open up specs, its fucking freezing out!"

His voice was faint in the set of the rain, but carried in that echoing, powerful way that everything about him did. Heavy with an accent he refused to let fade, he bore his words strongly and hammered on my front door again.

"get your ass a move on! West kicked me out, I need to crash somewhere."

Well I could understand why he was kicked out.

Ticked, I slid off the sofa and tugged the hem of my knee-length sweater down properly. A quick adjustment of the cowl, and I made my way nervously toward the front door, hands splayed in front of me so I wouldn't walk into anything in the dim.

"Gilbert?" I called to him, trying to sound as pissed as possible. "What do you want now? Cant you go bother Spain?" I had a hard time undoing the latch without my glasses, but I managed. When I pulled open the door a spray of rain plumed in, I had a brief glimpse of a glittering, rain slicked grey street before a blur of black hoodie and bootleg jeans swept me back inside and slammed the door shut.

"Fuckin' hell." He laughed and shook his wet hair out, like a dog after a bath. "It's pissing down today!"

"Gilbert! G-Gilbert stop!" I jammed my hands up in front of me to keep the wet he was shaking everywhere soaking my hair and clothes. "You're getting me wet!"

"Getting you wet am I? Wanna get wetter?"

I had no time to catch a breath or close my eyes before he had me yanked against his body, kissing greedily and with little prowess. Damp clothes spreading and saturating my sweater as well. Rain trickled down his cheeks, his clammy hair exuded the soft scent of his shampoo. I pinched his ear and pushed him backward, huffing and puffing and generally unimpressed.

"Cut that out!" I told him, stepping away and shaking out the sleeved of my top. "Thanks a lot, now its going to smell like wet dog."

He shrugged and pulled off his hoodie, revealing a German Football shirt beneath.

"Shit happens. So hey, are you going to offer me a drink or something? Beer would be awesome."

A blank silence entertained the space, I gazed at him in flat unamusement and he picked upon that, hands lifting in a 'fine the be that way' gesture.

"I have coffee." I informed him tightly. "Go and make yourself comfortable in front of the fire and I will bring it in for you."

He grinned and ruffled his hair.

"Awesome!"

So much for my quiet evening.

Sighing I padded into the kitchen, noting that the temperature in here was much lower than that in the parlour, and rummaged around in my cupboard for a mug. A coiling chill worked its way through the weave of my sweater, once the machine was running I stood there staring at it and shivering, arms wrapped around myself, a scowl pulling my lips downward as bitter as the dark nectar dripping thickly from the nozzle of the maker into his cup. A brief flash of lightning sent the kitchen light into a fit of shivers, and a following roll of thunder filled me with a lapse of calm. At least I was in here, with coffee and a fire. At least I had socks on, fluffy alpaca wool affairs Spain sent me for Christmas. At least I had a house, I thought shyly, unlike Gilbert.

This sobering realisation made me a little guilty, I rubbed my cheek and the corner of my eyes, unobscured by glasses, and dropped my hands to the side again. It was taking ages. Usually I could have a cup fixed in two minutes. Maybe it was just being slow because it was cold, and it knew that I would have to stand here freezing until it was done.

Rather than reflect on that I sorted out the things for his coffee. Cream, a handful of the chocolate kisses I had in a jar stashed somewhere where he wouldn't find it, and sugar. Gilbert's insatiable sweet-tooth was something that took me a while to adjust to. How I had know the man my whole life and only just realised a few years back that it was _him_ eating all my sweets and cakes when I wasn't looking I do not know. He just doesn't look like the type, I suppose. More of a beer onions meat kind of a guy…

Although to be fair, he consumed unholy amounts of those too.

The coffee was done, I wasted no time emptying half a sugar bowl and bottle of cream into the cup, stirring it with a spoon and setting it carefully on a plate with the kisses. A splatter of coffee ended up on my sleeve somehow, I rinsed it off under the tap so it wouldn't stain and sighed at the damp patch left behind.

"Shit!"

A pair of bare arms twisted around my waist, my hand on the sink tap twisted and sent a jet of water spraying everywhere. His soft chuckle reverberated in my back as I struggled to turn the damn slippery thing off.

"Shut up!" I snapped, shaking my dripping sleeves out furiously. "it's not funny! Let go of me."

"Nah…" he nosed the nape of my neck, lips brushing over my hairline, and tightened his grip on my body. "you're all cold, I thought I might share some of my awesome warm with you."

"Your coffee is on the bench." I hissed at him through gritted teeth. His arms were indeed very toasty. His wet shirt had been removed, and alabaster skin had heated easily in front of the fire. It seeped through the back of my top like golden oil.

"mm. Did you put cream in it?"

"No, I spat in it and hoped you wouldn't notice."

His arms slipped away and I felt the chill immediately. In the distance, thunder rolled again. I must have missed the lightning flash.

"Excellent. Much appreciated speckles."

I spluttered, most put out by this new, somewhat tragic, excuse for a pet name. He winked at me, and sauntered out of the room like the king of every living thing on planet earth. Naturally, I scurried after him, ready to give him a sharp clip around the ears and send him packing.

Of course, now I had company, as uninvited as it was, I knew that there was no chance I would finish my book or get to relax to quite the extent I had hoped this evening. This was only confirmed when I slipped into the parlour and saw he was digging around the back of my sofa in hunt for the TV remote. He had shut my music off, drawn my curtains, and his wet tee was cast carelessly on the fur rug before the fireplace.

Gilbert was not a classy man.'

"No!" I told him, snatching the remote from his hand when he found it resting on my piano. "Oh no you don't! Not tonight. Tonight I want to have a quiet cosy evening. I don't mind you being here but you are to make no noise, no disruptions, and absolutely NO television." To prove I was serious I stuck the remote in the waistband of my trousers and tugged my jersey down over it. He scoffed.

"Television isn't a distraction stupid. It's entertainment!"

"You just want to watch the jackass marathon on tonight don't you?"

I could tell by his expression that that was actually exactly what he had planned.

"… That's neither here nor there. Now give me that remote!"

"No!" I stepped out of his reach and banged my leg on the coffee table. His drink sloshed and I winced, hoping it wouldn't get on my carpet. Vision was low, I switched on the lamp and a second glow, similar to the soft shimmer of the fire, leaked warmth into the room. "I was having a really nice evening before you showed up and I want to finish it!" huffing, I grabbed my book from where he had thrown it on the floor and dropped myself down on the rug by his top. "And pick up your wet clothes! It's gross to just leave them around." I wrenched my book open at a random page and started reading. I was halfway down a page when it occurred to me I was looking at a mess of blurred words with no meaning, my glasses were still on the side table.

"Fine. Here." As if reading my mind he waved my glasses in my face and picked up his shirt. "Be boring then." He settled beside me and threw himself backward into a messy sprawl. "I don't even care."

I rolled my eyes and found my place, a little discomforted but still glad that maybe he would be cooperative for once in his life.

I was genuinely astonished when, after a few minutes, he stood up and put my CD player back on to play. The sweep of Violin made my heart flutter, and the soft smile he gave me when I glanced up in disbelief was achingly gorgeous. I swallowed, and went back to my book.

…

"Whatcha thinking about?" Gilbert murmured softly right by my ear, pulling me from my broad, hazy musings. My opened book slid from my lap, and I tore my gaze from the flickering fire that had held my attention. My eyes were dry and stung, I blinked them and he blurred into focus.

"Look your nose is all singed." He touched the bridge of my glasses and stroked downward, barely lighting the tip. "it's red and shiny."

"Stop it," I reprimanded him gently. "Have you finished your coffee? Do you want another?"

"Yeah I did, it was awesome. And no thanks, I still have some kisses."

"hm. Okay." I picked up my book and ran my hand along the spine. "What's the time?"

He checked his digital watch, clicking the button, lighting up the face. "Eight thirty. I came around at five."

"Oh wow. You managed to be pretty well behaved for a long time then." My eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. He clicked his tongue.

"You were zoned out the whole time. You wouldn't have noticed if I raised hell in here. What are you reading anyway?" he glanced at the cover of my book. "Mozart's biography… I could have guessed."

"Well you didn't." I set the book aside and stretched my arms luxuriously. They clicked and flexed, the rain always made my joints a little creaky. "But, I can't help but be convinced you're after something…"

He rolled his eyes. "No, I just came to your house in the middle of a storm and sat here quietly watching you read for _fun_."

"Oh? That's sweet of you…"

"I was being sarcastic."

"Yes, so was I." I shook my head slightly and let myself fall backward onto the rug. Faint gold shadows danced on the ceiling, the smell of a cosy fire was relaxing and pleasant. I guess I had known, from the moment Gilbert had shown up on my doorstep, what he was here for. It was rare for him to wait for it, in all honesty. Any normal day he would have dragged me to the bedroom from where we had met in front of the door, but not today… maybe he was up to something.

"Okay," I propped myself up and looked at him, he looked well in the flame light, hair stained rich orange, skin gleaming with a faint haze of sweat across the bridge of his slim nose. The wings of his cheeks were smooth, his eyes dilated and introverted. Even his lips looked nice. Thin, fragile. Like creased tissue paper. "What are you planning? You didn't just come here to try out another one of your crazy new kinks did you? If you did, I'm not in the mood."

He looked a tad put out. "What makes you think I'm planning something?"

A flat look, he pressed his lips together and a 'wait a second' expression lent me to cock an eyebrow.

"Oh, right. Never mind." He scratched his arm and my attention was drawn to the fact he was shirtless still. "Well, no. I'm not."

"Then why did you wait so long, its not normal for you."

He licked his lips and reached for the small pile of chocolate kisses he had, remaining on the coffee table behind him. "Well, maybe because I felt kind of bad for crashing without a warning. I was supposed to stay home tonight you know. It's not your fault I was kicked out."

"Well what did you do to get kicked out."

"That isn't important." I knew, being as fluent in Gilbert speak as I was, that that meanest something like 'I spent the afternoon making paper jets out of Ludwig's tax returns' or 'I sold Italy's best suit for beer money again.' "What's Important is that I'm here now. And I wanted to pay you back." He unwrapped a chocolate kiss, the foil crinkling like jewellery stores and continental breakfasts, and lifted his eyes to mine. "it's kind of hot in here, don't you think?" and to illustrate his point he sat a little backward, pale swimmers stomach bared, and placed the kiss neatly above his belly button.

I didn't get where he was going for a moment. It just sat there, a little awkwardly at first. I stared at it in confusion, then looked to him and noted he was observing it expectantly, waiting.

When I looked back down I realised with a little remark of shock, it was melting, the fire heating his skin, which in turn was liquefying the candy on his abdomen into a small glutinous chocolate puddle.

"Seems like it…" I edged forward, still looking at the seeping chocolate. "Shall I dampen the fire?"

"No, no, its fine." He unwrapped another chocolate, this time placing it below his navel, part way between his tummy and his pubic bone. The belt of his jeans came a little close to it, so smoothly they were unzipped and pulled open to reveal another few centimetres of skin and his underwear, plain black and stretched lowly across his hips. "It feels kind of cool."

"mm." my eyes fell on the five remaining kisses, I picked one and with confident fingers peeled it open. "Give me your arm?"

He offered me his right arm, the one furtherest from the fire, and I placed the sweet carefully on his bicep. Our fingers laced in my lap, we held hands and I pulled his arm tight so the chocolate wouldn't fall off. Soon, it too was beginning to dribble dark sweetness down over the firm swells of his muscle.

I licked my lips to wet them, in the heat of fire they dried quickly, and he gave me that one super seductive smile he does sometimes. Usually only when he's depressed or tired, it's kind of yielding and peaceful, totally devoid of any superiority or conceitedness. Taking the invitation, I tugged him forward and kissed his neck lightly, before skating down his arm and kissing off the warm chocolate. His skin was soft and dry and even, it smelled strongly of his body spray. Something bitter but sweet in a metallically flowery way. Kind of curling, like wrought iron, and secure. It tasted like dark chocolate, which was unsurprising. I sucked the taste off that one spot with dedication until there was no more ghost of borderline citrusy cocoa, and gave it a single swipe of my tongue more before pulling back.

"Your hair smells nice." He told me. "Like lavender and talcum powder."

"Yours is still wet," I combed my hand through it as if he didn't know. It wasn't soaked so much as a little damp. "I should have asked you earlier if you wanted a towel."

"It's alright, if I did I would have said."

True that. I clicked my tongue and tilted my head so I could gaze at his finely sculpted stomach. His abdomen was flat, and only very faintly revealed muscle beneath, he had a fair bit of unusually straight smooth hair snailing from belly button and beneath his knicker line, but it was very pale and usually not visible. The low warm lighting did strange things to airy silver hair it seemed, casting rich, extraordinary highlights. I dipped a finger delicately into the small puddle of chocolate there; stroking it through the hair and watching it smear cloyingly across his skin. His ab muscles twitched faintly.

"Hey specs?"

"mm?"

"…" he turned my face and pressed a tender, deeply gratifying kiss to my cheek right beside my nose. My eyes closed, I sublimed like those chocolates against him, arms lifting to necklace, mouth seeking the familiar cream coffee flavour of his own. Gilbert had a prettily pointed tongue, and it darted so cunningly between his lips to tap at mine I graced entrance without any resistance. Warm stripes tingled where he explored, prodding and tasting, running the flat across ridges of teeth and flicking sharp canines. My thumbs caressed circles on his cheekbones. The soft scratch of invisible stubble against my sensitive skin was erotic and dangerous.

"Stop." He pulled his lips from mine with a docile pop, nibbling on them thoughtfully. "I still have chocolate on my gut."

"Ah, right." I thought for a brief moment how much sexier it would have been, had he used a nicer word than gut, but dismissed it, sinking down and pecking lightly at the hollow beneath his scapula instead. Steadily, I moved down to the chocolate dripping sluggishly into his bellybutton, eyes closed, but mapping very carefully every square inch of his skin in my mind. Every crevasse and small give of flesh was mine to indulge in. a barely palpable prick in my senses meant I could hear his heart beating a little louder, in time with the pulse of rain on my roof. Thunder growled, and he shuddered, hips lifting a little when my tongue gilbed south some more to wet his happy hairline.

"Roddy, can you hurry up?"

"Don't be impatient. What do you want me to do?" I looked up at him, finger hooking in the waistband of his underwear, and flicked my tongue over my upper lip. He sniffed, and looked into the fireplace, embarrassed. Ghostly shadows flickered across the gracious planes of his cheeks and jaw, his eyes seemed hotly.

"You know what I want." His hand glanced my cheek and I caught it, nuzzling and imploring him to say the words.

"More specific, Gilbert." I murmured into his palm, dragging myself up his body and pushing him backways onto the rug. My arms fenced his shoulders, his fringe fell out of place and spidered across his brow in a cute, rakish sort of fashion. "Come on, its not like you've never said it before."

He sighed and closed his eyes, defeated. Hands ran shakily up my thighs and hips, dipping beneath my jumper and finding my waist. Impatiently, he pulled me down, and nose buried in the side of my neck right behind my ear he murmured my full name for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"Roderich."

"mm?" I kissed his ear, pushing his head to the side and exposing a lank of neck as yet unbitten. My teeth rallied him, he dug his fingers in and his thighs tightened either side of my hips. "Do you want me inside of you again?"

"I want…" his socked foot lifted, running up the back of my one leg and hooking possessively there. "You know…"

"I don't know." I closed my eyes and smiled, thinking of his face, flushed and starved for me again. I wiggled my lower region against his, a quiet whimper and jerk of his pelvis. "But, if you've forgotten, I'm sure I can refresh your memory."

Beginning to feel a little impatient too, I pulled his face around to kiss a little more roughly than intended, his surprised squeak swallowed by my mouth. Slowly, to get a little relief on my part more than to provide help to him, I rolled my hips on his, lips parting and pulling his tongue in. the little friction was pleasing, but not entirely satisfactory. His touch, alluding to his lust, slid along my sides to my pant-line, I sighed deeply when fingers pried below and pulled along the front.

"I want…"

"mm… tell me what you want." Breathless and very much into it, I dipped my crotch into his body as far as I could.

"I want… the remote!"

I yelled, very much put out and turned off, when his hand seized the remote still in my trousers and yanked it out, pushing me sideways onto the floor and out of the warm circle cast by the fire. An evil cackle, he waved it in my face for a moment to gloat before aiming it at the television in triumph.

The roar of motorcycles filled the comfortable silence, and he hollered excitedly when some unfortunate man or another crashed head first into a wall of hay bales. Behind him I loomed, more than prepared to kill him with my goddamned book.

Totally unsympathetic, the rain fell on.

…

_Yeap. Im an asshole._

_On another unrelated note, im currently taking one fic request for a oneshot. As a rule I take four at a time, and I at the moment only have three. If you want to make a request, message me ya? First in first served. I can write any (yaoi)pairing, any kink, any genre, and any rating._

Awesome. ^^


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